


Void of Emotion

by Void (DramaticBlue)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A kid dies im so sorry, Angst, Attempted Murder, B a d ending, Blood and Gore, Btw ppl, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Evil Stiles, For the story tho scott is an ass, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hurt Derek, I Don't Even Know, I like scott, Just thought about it & knew it needed to be a tag, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Minor Character Death, Multi, Murder, Nogitsune (Teen Wolf) is a Little Shit, Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Not Happy, Oblivious Scott, Oh yea the ending isnt happy, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Horror, Scott is kinda a bad friend, Sjsbdhhejwwdbhe, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slow Burn, So bad ending guys, Sorry guys, Stiles Stilinski is Eighteen Years Old, Stiles himself is a good guy i swear, Stiles really needs a hug guys, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, im sorry, just sayin, let the man sleep, no happiness, nogitsune is b a d, void!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:00:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26549389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramaticBlue/pseuds/Void
Summary: Stiles knew something was in his head; they screamed at him every night, wailing to be let in. He knew and yet he.. He just. Brushed it off. How can he begin to tell anyone what monster corrupted his head if he doesn't even know himself?
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	1. The beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so; basically   
> This is the chapter is to kick start things!! Its an introduction to Stiles life & head. It's a mess-, poor boy needs sleep.  
> Yes! This is void!Stiles/evil!stiles  
> But unwillingly   
> It'll be explained further!
> 
> Now for the warnings!  
> Panic attacks  
> Talking to self/talking to whats in his head  
> Sleep deprivation   
> Manipulation
> 
> Please read end notes!!

Stiles couldn't breathe. He curled desperately into a ball, willing for the voices to  _ stop _ so go away, to do something other than  _ torment _ him! They whisper, howl and scream; begging to be let in, haunting him in his sleep, now when he's awake. They claw at his head and lungs, pulling and twisting to let them in, begging turns to wails, wails turn to anger; anger turns into demands. 

They're demanding to be let in. Banging against his head with force he couldn't begin to fight back against and yet-, and yet he held onto the last of his sanity, begging himself, begging  _ it _ to stop, let him sleep. He's oh so tired,  _ it _ knows this. Using it to get to him in a weakened state; everytime he sleeps he's plunged into nightmares.

He begs for it to stop, for rest, even if brief. His eyes weighed heavier than lead, dropping down even as he dug his nails into the flesh on his legs, then to his arm hoping the pain keeps him awake so he doesn't have to face  _ it _ . They won't stop, he wails in a horrid realization.

They won't stop. They wont stop they won't stop they wO _NT_ _STOP!_

He cries out, the demands to be let in ringing louder in his head, cursing him as more seconds pass without him giving in. He can't, he knows he can't, it'll hurt them; it'll hurt his friends!

_ "But Stiles," _ it purrs, sickeningly sweet; overlapping the other voices with a confidence he never could muster in himself,  _ "you're hurting too. They haven't seen it. They don't know, do they? You keep your secrets well, I must praise you. But you're slipping aren't you? I can feel it,  _ **_taste_ ** _ it on the tip of my tongue. You're ready to let go." _

Stiles covered his ears, his legs kicking out, knocking the blanket off the bed. He didn't care when the cold brushes against his already freezing skin, sending goosebumps all over him. He didn't know his father came home, hearing his screams out into the night until a pair of warm- comforting- arms caged him close.

He nearly screamed again, the voices shouting danger, that he wasn't safe-, that whoever grabbed him was there to hurt him. He can't begin to tell where his thoughts start and theirs end. 

"Stiles, Stiles-!" A voice soothes urgently, pushing past the muddy thoughts in his head, registering in Stiles mind; his father.

Knowing this, he clung desperately to the man holding him, his eyes burning with tears, yet he couldn't force a word out of his mouth, finding all he can do is scream and bury himself further into his father. His heart roared in his ears, blocking out any other noise. He could see his father moving his mouth. What was he saying?

_ "He's cursing you for not letting him sleep. He had a long day at work Stiles~, it's three am after all. He's tired can't you see? The bags under his eyes?" _

He's tired too! His eyes were rimmed red and black, his cheeks sunken; he's looked in the mirror once. Hasn't since. 

_ "Oh Stiles.. Pitiful Stiles." _

"Stiles, come on kiddo, breathe with me." His dad orders, his voice barely reaching Stiles, yet it did by some miracle, shoving away the voice taunting him; mocking him with one identical to his own. No.. He isn't that cold. That mocking and twisted-, Stiles snap out of it!

He forced himself to listen to his father's words, shoving his thoughts away desperately.

He mimicked his fathers breathing, shaky and gasping in attempts to keep going. Pins and needles pricked his face and hands, informing him they had gone numb. His feet tingled too. He can't run-, he cant run!

Why does he need to run?!

"Stiles, buddy, hey look at me. Look at me, you're okay," his father's voice sounded like he was underwater. Are they? 

A hand covered his, placing it on something warm, a steady thumping vibrating it. A heart. He could ju _st_ _plunge his hand into his head and rip it out, watch him gurgle on his own blood as his eyes are full of betrayal that his own_ ** _son_** _killed him._ No-, no no-!

"Keep breathing with me buddy."

He must have realized he couldn't open his eyes-, when did he shut them?

The chest under his fingers moved up and down in a slow steady movement, his heart thumping against his ribs. 

Slowly Stiles took in a deep breath, once more mimicking the movements his father made; squinting his eyes opened to be faced with the worried look on his father's face. After a beat, Stiles calmed down, the thoughts hushing themselves to the back of his mind.

"Stiles," his dad starts, Stiles cutting him off with a hoarse, "dad I'm okay. Thank you.. It was just a nightmare."

He didn't look like he believed it, the line of worry still creasing his forehead; his lip drawn back into his teeth; so unlike his father. "You've been having those a lot Stiles.. Look at you.. You look like you haven't slept a day."

He hasn't, only lasting 30 minutes before waking up covered in sweat; sometimes not even in his own room. His father wasn't home for those nights.

Yet he repeats his words again, sounding unconvincing to his own ears, "really dad, I'm okay. Go to sleep. You look like death," he tries to joke, a weak tilt of false humor colouring his words. 

His father, still worried, simply nodded and stood up making his way to the door.

He paused, his hand on the door knob; "if anything is bothering you, you can talk to me okay, Stiles? Even if I'm working or asleep.  _ You're my kid _ ." He said, shutting the door behind him.

Stiles didn't reply, instead leaning against his headboard; staring up at the plain white ceiling. Should he tell Scott? Something is going on. But..

_ "Would he even care, Stiles?" _

"He would." Stiles whispered back, gritting his teeth at how stupid it sounded to his own ears. Scott would care, he would. They're friends, best friends. Stiles is apart of the pack!

_ "They haven't been paying attention to you Stiles. You know they don't care." _

"Shut up." Stiles bit out, curling his fingers into a fist; raising them to his eyes. Wiping at his eyes, they stung more; the lack of sleep wearing him thin. He can't even hold it in himself to fight with whatever is in his head. That's..a horrific thought Stiles back up.

_ "Go to sleep, you know you want to. Your body is weak, as is your mind. You want to let go." _

He ignored the words echoing in his head, forcing his dropping eyes open once again. God, he wasn't going to survive this.

_ "You're not." _ It stated, eerily calm;  _ confident _ . It  _ knew _ he wasn't going to last much longer. 

Stiles chewed at his lips, fear creeping into his heart, his thoughts going muddy. It's going to be a long night..


	2. Breaking minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles didn't know how he ended up where he did or how they found him, probably Lydia leading them to the dead body which the voice is saying he did, thanks for that one monster, but he cant say he's enjoying this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings!  
> Suffocating on smoke  
> Flame  
> Fire  
> Description of a corpse  
> Gore  
> Swearing 
> 
> Please read end notes!!

He fell asleep. 

He _fell asleep_.

How could he? How could he fall asleep while that _thing_ was inside him? God he's so stupid! 

Stiles eyes cracked open, flinching at the onslaught of light hitting them; blinding him momentarily. He's fairly certain he _isn't_ in his bedroom right now, which means-, he sleep-walked. He sucked in a breath, scanning his surroundings slowly. Birds, he heard birds chirping a distance away. He smelled the earth, and shadows casted around. Trees! He's in the forest! No. No wait.

He is, he's in the forest but.. But is he _really_ in the forest? 

Sending a glance at his fingers he decided to count them later. He needed to get home first. If this were a dream, he'd find out one way or another. 

Stiles stood up on shaky legs, his knees buckling in under him; sending him tumbling to the ground with a thud with a curse, "fuck that hurt."

_"Ah ah, Stiles. Language. You wouldn't want to disrespect the dead now would you?"_ The voice, _it_ asked, seemingly innocently. It held a mocking tone, hidden under the false worry and care about the dead.

Wait.. _Dead_?

Dread filled Stiles as he clambered to his feet, swaying as he spotted the thing he hadn't before. It's an old house. Well, what's left of one anyways; it's mostly a pile of burnt wood at this point. It's caving in just from what he could see outside. How did he miss something this big?

_"Because dear Stiles, you weren't looking for it. Now now, don't get too nervous. Walk into it. There's_ **_something_ ** _inside for you."_

A shiver shot down his spine, fear clawing its way under his skin. He doesn't have too. He doesn't need to walk into that house, that had something familiar tugging in his head; he didn't _have_ to listen. But his body moved on its own; like it was on autopilot as he made his way up the broken steps leading to the house. 

His heart raced in his chest, sweat dripping down his skin. He held his breath as the door, what's left of it, creaked open with a loud hiss; sending another shiver down his spine. Oh god, the _smell_. 

It was awful, like burning _flesh_. 

_"Yes, Stiles, that's exactly what you're smelling."_ It nearly cooed in his head, pleased he found out so quickly.

Then smoke filled the air, caging his lungs; burning them with every breath he took. He gasped for air, clutching at his shirt, heat licking his skin when there was no flame. It burned, it burned, oh god it _burned so bad make it stop make it sTOP._

_"Do you want it to stop, Stiles?"_

"Yes, oh god please yes!" He didn't know how he gasped those words out, rough and raw. Screams echoed around him, he didn't know where from; sounding like they came beyond a door he hadn't seen before.

_"Then open yourself to me. Let me in. Free me Stiles, then I'll make the pain stop."_

Stiles hesitated, the heat burning him to the core; his lungs filled with smoke. He took a shaky glance at his fingers; horrified to see them dripping with flesh. He couldn't count them. He couldn't count ten fingers. Not just because they were bone, this is a dream Stiles!

_"But is it really? Do you hear the screams, Stiles? They're your doing. You're the one who killed them. You murdered them, it was you."_

Who? Who did he (not) murder?! He didn't know, he didn't know anything. Where was he anyways?

"No! I refuse!" He said, his voice soft. He couldn't speak much louder. Pain shouldn't be there, he shouldn't feel pain, is this really a dream? He didn't know.

_"Is it a dream Stiles?"_ It was mocking him. Asking a question he didn't know the answer too. He didn't know!

The flames, that weren't there and he _knew it so why did it hurt_ , continued to lick at his skin, melting the flesh that covered him. Fuck fuck fuck, he shouldn't have walked in.

A scream ripped its way from his throat, wailing loudly at the pain. That's all he can do, is wail and wait for it to stop. For _it_ to stop.

_"You can make it stop, Stiles. Just say yes. Say you'll let me in."_ It said, like it had read his mind. Wait, duh of course it did. It's _in_ his head.

He couldn't give a verbal reply besides screaming, until once again, a horrible feeling of deja-vu shrouding him, a warm pair of arms wrapped themselves around his torso.

They held him as he flailed, crying out for help, for the pain to stop. They didn't speak a word; a nagging feeling in his head saying it smelled like Derek, who had a tinge of an ashen smell coated around him, mixing in with a dirt smell. Not a bad smell, more earthy than anything. 

They ran their hands along his spine, drumming their fingers gently along the base of his neck as they breathed in and out slowly; making no demands or orders and yet Stiles knew to follow them. So he did. 

_"Tsk tsk, Stiles, you know better than to think this will keep me away for long. Don't think calming down will keep me at bay, I'm always here."_

He knew this, what did it take him for? An idiot?

" _Hardly so."_

Vague but go off.

His body wasn't on fire anymore, his lungs filling with fre-, no not fresh. The air was musty, like an old house; one that had been abandoned for a long time. It was fresh enough in his opinion, better than the ash he had been inhaling moments ago. Was that even real? Is _this_ real?

"Stiles." The voice, ah it was Derek, greeted him pleasantly. Derek had such a nice voice. Rough around the edges but soothing to listen too.

Peering up at said man, Stiles licked his chapped lips. He spotted Lydia behind him, who looked petrified, staring at something behind him. Did he _really_ want to know what was behind him? Probably not. Not after that freak out. Did he have to look anyways? Unfortunately _yes._

He slowly craned his neck, coming face to face with a dead body, literally, burned to death. They couldn't have been older than ten, given the small size; there were no features to make out though. That made Stiles lose whatever food he managed to force down. Not on Derek of course. No he managed to turn away fully before throwing up.

_"Do you like it? You did this Stiles. Her,"_ it's a little girl?, _"blood is on your hands."_

"Oh god.. Derek. Where.. Where are we?" Stiles asked, tearing his eyes away from the little girl hanging from her ankles upside down, clothes melted into what used to be her flesh. 

Derek, who stared at the girl with hard eyes, answered through gritted teeth. "My old house. The Hale mansion that burned down years ago."

Stiles felt sick all over again. Now that he pays attention, he can count his fingers again.

_"One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Four."_

Shut up.

Lydia, who hadn't spoken once, finally made a noise of horror behind them. "We need to call the police."

The two agreed with her, Derek helping Stiles up; who cringed at how he was trembling like a leaf in Derek's hold. This day couldn't get any worse and he didn't even know what time it was.

_"Don't test fate dear Stiles."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now.. Why did it want Stiles at the Hale mansion? Does it know something? Hm~
> 
> Derek & Lydia are here!  
> The rest will be piling in soon!
> 
> Feedback is highly appreciated!!  
> Not beta read!


	3. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles didn't know what to say. He didn't know anything, nothing at all. It was like a void eating his memories, a black hole if you will. He couldn't remember at all and the damn thing won't stop talking. There's also a dead child. That he might have murdered. His night is going lovely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings;  
> Anxiety  
> Hallucinations (sorta)  
> A dead child  
> Corpses  
> Angst  
> Swearing 
> 
> Please read end notes!

The police arrived quickly after the call Lydia made.

Stiles, who still didn't know what happened before he came to his senses, was thrown into questioning by an officer, who by the looks of it was getting more and more frustrated with the lack of reply.

It isn't like he doesn't _want_ to help. He just _can't_ . He doesn't know what happened or how he ended up in the Hale house. Its like his body wasn't his own when he made it there; let alone when the little girl was there. _He wasn't a killer_.

_"Oh but you_ **_are_ ** _, Stiles."_

"Stiles!" His father, thank god, jogged up to him with his eyes shining with worry. It hurt Stiles to see him like this, worried about him, but what can he do when he doesn't know either? He doesn't know what's in his head. It won't tell him. He's asked already and it gave a mocking, _"find it out yourself Stiles. You're smart enough aren't you?"_

So he just grit his teeth and dealt with it. And he thought he was doing okay, until a _dead child_ was found. Where he ended up. When he was supposed to be _sleeping_.

"Dad," he breathed out, all but collapsing into his father's arms, barley missing the badge sitting on his chest. He melted into him, who held him closely.

They sat there for a minute just holding each other, before they separated. There was work to do after all.

"Son, do you know anything at all?" His father asked softly, kneeling down a little; like he used to do when Stiles was a kid. It pulled a string with Stiles, one he forgot he had. It nearly made him _laugh._ No. That isn't him; he isn't-, he feels happy when his father did this. He didn't want to laugh about it though. He didn't. _Oh but he wants to laugh so loud it scares them._

Slowly, he shook his head, tilting it down to his father. His father cupped his arms in his hands, keeping their gazes locked together as he asked another question, one a little easier to answer.

"What do you remember doing last?"

"I remember.. I remember sitting in my bed with a book. I can't-," he couldn't tell them what it was even if they asked him too. He couldn't read the words. "I can't remember what it was. I must have fallen asleep."

His father raised an eyebrow at that, but a sort of realization dawned on him, flickering his eyes up and down Stiles body. "Oh. Sleepwalking. You were sleepwalking, son."

Stiles _knew_ that, so _why_ did it sound so much more _real_ from his father's mouth? 

"The question is, how did you end up here and who murdered the little girl in there..?" He mutters the last part, eyes flicking to Derek for a brief moment. 

His father knew about werewolves and such existing. He knew Derek helped them so why is he..oh. Right. They're at the Hale house. With a child who was burned alive. That's easily a motive right there, especially with Derek's not so good track record or temper. Or his uncle Peters, who was assumed to be dead. But at this point you can never be sure.

"Dad, I don't think it was Derek." Maybe he's a little biased. Maybe he believed the words the sly monster in his head whispers to him, that he was the murderer; it'd be hard to find any DNA or fingerprints given she was burned to death. His body wasn't his own for hours. It's daylight out. He was _sleepwalking_ for hours. How can he be sure it wasn't him? Maybe he _did_ kill her? 

Or maybe it was the _thing_ inside him. It used his body, it used _him_ and killed an innocent little girl. 

It was still his hands. His face, his voice, it was still _him_ that did it though wasn't it? _Wasn't it, Stiles?_

"Son. Son, Stiles hey." His father's voice dragged him out of his thoughts, blinking slowly to focus back on him.

"Sorry. Spaced out. Anyways, I don't think it was Derek. First rule of murder, from what I've gathered through ..reading your files.. Is they don't go back to the crime scene with a witness. And normally they wouldn't commit the crime in a place connected to them. Derek isn't stupid dad, and he isn't a murderer." 

He wiggled his hands together, drumming his fingers along the veins there gently. He didn't think it was Derek. It couldn't have been. It was likely _him_ that did it. Or the thing in him wearing his body. Fuck. He'll figure it out on his own.. If he _did_ murder this child then who knows who else could get hurt if they know. Well whatever. He'll just.. Ignore it for now. If another body shows up _then_ he'll be worried.

Until then, he'll ignore the voices. He _can_.

_"So optimistic, aren't we, Stiles? You think you can ignore me?"_

He didn't reply, watching his father consider his words. Of course they'd still investigate Derek, given its just Stiles opinion but… he hopes his father believes him enough. 

"Alright. Now, why do you think you walked here?" His father finally asked, before adding softly, "there had to have been a reason, Stiles. I don't know if you even know if you knew this place. Let alone where it was."

His father had to have known he knew about the Hale mansion, especially the murder that had occurred. Stiles had gone through the file years back. One that wasn't supposed to be brought out. He didn't know _where_ the mansion was though; thinking it had been lost to the woods, the fire a long time ago. He was partially correct.

"I didn't-, I knew about what happened. I didn't know where it was. I never.. Unless I forgot I knew, I don't _kn_ ow." He answered, chewing at his lower lip anxiously, his eyes darting around for something, something he didn't know. What was he afraid of?

_"You're afraid of me, Stiles."_

Stiles winced, "I'm sorry dad. I wish I could help more but I.. I don't know. I don't even know how I got here let alone when or who that girl was." 

"It's okay. We'll do our job and figure out who killed this innocent child." His father stood up and clapped him on the back, "have Lydia take you home, okay? I'll be back in a few hours."

_Innocent child. Innocent child?_ It's setting in. He could have _murdered_ an _innocent kid_. Oh god. He's going to be sick.

"Alright dad." He forced out numbly, his body working on autopilot to the banshee standing next to Derek, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere but there. Stiles can't exactly blame him.

"Hey," he greets with a small wave, "uh.. Can one of you take me home? Dad can't and I don't have my jeep." His piece of crap jeep but his baby anyways.. No he just can't afford a new car.

_"Steal one, Stiles. Kill the owner and take it._ **_Kill them and take the car, Stiles._ ** _"_

Lydia glanced over to Derek, who sighed. 

"I drove. So I'll drop you off. Come on, I don't have all night." Derek said, immediately starting off towards his car; leaving the duo to rush after him.

_"You can't ignore me forever, Stiles. You know I'm here. You'll have to face the truth someday. I_ **_will_ ** _win. I'll win and_ **_kill_ ** _all of your friends."_

Stiles merely gritted his teeth. He didn't say a damn word to the thing. He co _uldn't say a word because he knew it was right. It'll kill his friends with his face and hands, it'll kill them all-, his father, Scott, Derek, Lydia-, oh god they'll all_ **_die_ ** _. You know that don't you, Stiles?_

_They'll die because of_ **_you._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles needs a hug. Just sayin  
> anyways  
> Next chapter will have Scott! Finally!!  
> And.. Who murdered the girl I wonder?
> 
> Feedback is highly appreciated!


	4. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles didn't listen. He didn't listen and he should have because that damned voice was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings-  
> Hallucinations  
> Swearing  
> Mentions of a corpse/dead body 
> 
> Please read end notes

Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, leaning back in the seat of the car as they sped down a bumpy road. He suspected it'll take 20-25 minutes to get back to his house, if his thoughts aren't wrong. Not that he'd be able to tell you whose thoughts are whose at this point. The voices are still screaming at him, even with him desperately trying to ignore them, shoving them to the back of his mind by focusing on other things.

Take Lydia for example-

_ "You'll kill her." _

She's talking to someone on her phone, probably Allison, about what had happened. She hitched a ride with Derek, which now that Stiles thinks about it is pretty weird. What were those two doing together anyways? At this point he doubts he wants to know. But his mouth fails him.

"What were you two doing together? I mean, you showed up at the scene and- I'm not trying to pry but like-"

"Lydia called me, said she heard the word "Hale" repeated in her dreams with something that resembled fire. She called  _ you  _ first and you didn't answer."

Lydia cut in calmly, "yeah. You told me to call you when I find a dead body and I was being led somewhere. And that somewhere ended up being there, with you."

Stiles paused for a moment, something flashing through his mind; a passing thought.

_ "They're acting weird." _

He ignored it, the nagging voice that continued to whisper something was  _ wrong. _ Instead, he shrugged. "Makes sense. Why did you call Derek though?"

Lydia took a second longer than normal to reply, startling Stiles just a little, "because his name was mentioned. After I called you, I called Scott. Who told me to call Derek. I did and Derek grabbed me from my house and dragged me out where. Speaking of,  _ why  _ were you there anyways, Stiles?"

_ "Aren't they acting weird, Stiles? Don't tell me you can't see it. You know they are. Why would Derek pick her up, hmm? Does Derek even know where she lives, Stiles? Does he? And why would she have his number?" _

Stiles shrugged again, finding it to be the only thing he could do with the voice whispering. "I don't know. I just.. Woke up there I guess."

"With a dead body in front of you?"

"Guess so. I don't know what to tell you guys, I honestly have no idea  _ how  _ I got there, let alone why. I just woke up in Der-," he paused, shifting his gaze to Dereks, who was looking at him through the mirror with a raised eyebrow, "I just woke up."

Lydia didn't seem satisfied with the answer but didn't question further

_ Odd, that's odd she wouldn't drop something that quick would she? I don't KNOW I dont know i don't know why cant i remember- _

"We're there." Derek said, pulling to a stop in front of Stiles house, startling said boy out of his thoughts. 

Derek knew where he lived. That he knows. Derek, Derek showed up-, why is that all he  _ can remember where is his memories  _

"Thank you." Stiles slipped out of the car, flinching when he spotted Scott's motorcycle in the driveway; noting the absence of his father's car. Right. Dead body. Can't forget that one can he?

_ "What's wrong Stiles? Is something missing?" _

"Shut up." He hisses under his breath, catching Derek's raised eyebrow once again. He's starting to hate their stupid superhearing. How the fuck can he hear him when he said it that low? 

His mind went blank, his body working on autopilot, going and opening the front door as he heard the car speed off; likely to drop Lydia off. 

Thoughts swarmed through his head seconds later, a smell of musty wood, no  _ burnt  _ wood filling his senses. Is something burning? No way Scott is there-, nothing is-, nothing is burning. Scott wouldn't let it burn. He  _ wouldn't. _

Immediately he was greeted by Scott, sitting on the couch looking at his phone every few seconds, waiting for something. Maybe a message from Lydia saying he was dropped off? Or Allison? Fuck.

He repeated this until Stiles slowly closed the door. 

_ But wouldn't he hear the door opening? Why didn't he turn around? Doesn't he have superhearing? _

"Stiles," he breathed out, standing up to face him.

"Scott, buddy, hey." 

Awkward. Way to go Stiles, that's a  _ fantastic way to tell your friend hi im not okay please just make it stop _ .

"Are you okay?"

Stiles shrugged, he seemed to be doing that a lot, dragging his feet as he made his way to the couch, where he plopped down onto. He froze, eyes staring at the blank TV screen; more specifically at Scott. He blinked, the image of Scotts dead corpse glaring at him vanishing, as he swallowed down the bile rising in his throat.

What the fuck was that.

"I'm  _ peachy _ Scott, just y'know woke up in the forest like every other day," that was a little harsh. "Sorry, didn't, I didn't mean it like that. I'm okay. Just tired."

"Then rest Stiles. I'll be here."

Rest? As in sleep? He couldn't. If he did then the  _ thing  _ would come back. Wasn't he supposed to be ignoring it? Does ignoring it include letting it potentially kill people with his body by falling asleep? Can he even  _ risk  _ that?

He glanced down at his fingers, his mouth going dry.

Last time he checked he didn't have 12 fingers.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go folks  
> ;)  
> Can't spoil much but it gets.. Dark soon.  
> Happy too cause of derek & Stiles but like  
> D a r k
> 
> Feed back is highly appreciated!


	5. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles doesn't know what's real. He can't tell if he's dreaming or awake- he's afraid.  
> He's afraid and doesn't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings;  
> Throwing up  
> Panic attacks   
> Swearing

Stiles doesn't have 12 fingers.

He stood up, stalking over to Scott in horror, his mind racing against his will as he dragged the werewolfs hands up. His eyes flickered between his fingers, bile rising in his throat again; confusion thrumming under his skin.

Scott has 10 fingers. 

Glancing at his own hands his heart stopped beating, seeing 10 pale fingers stare back at him. He had 12. He  _ had 12 fingers a second ago _ . Now he has ten? Scott has ten? Ten fingers. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine  — ten. Just ten.

_ "Is this a dream, Stiles~?" It _ asked, Stiles hearing the mocking grin in its voice.

He doesn't know. He doesn't know what this is  — he just doesn't know.

"Stiles, buddy, are you okay?" Scott asked, curling his hands around Stiles trembling hands gently, worried brown eyes peering into his own. 

"Yeah  —  yeah I'm okay, no worries here!" 

_ "He should hear you lie. Your heart Stiles. Why can't he?" _

He might. He could be hearing it, how would he know if he isn't? Scott isn't the type to point out when he's lying, right? He doesn't want to  —

Scott showed no signs of picking up on the lie, sending a cold wave of terror dumped over Stiles. Did he not actually hear it? His heartbeat? There wasn't even a flinch or worried gleam in his eyes.

"Alrighty. You can always come to me Stiles you know that right? If you need anything?"

Stiles couldn't help it, as he rushed to the bathroom to let out whatever he had eaten, or not ate, heaving heavily after slamming the door shut behind him.

Scott didn't even flinch, Stiles saw him out of the corner of his eyes. He didn't look concerned. He couldn't hear the pounding of feet rushing to the door to ask if he's okay  — did Scott worry? Is he worried?

He hesitated, eyes boring into the dirty toilet water. Does Scott care? Tears burned at the corner of his eyes, dripping down his face no matter how many times he blinked them away. With shaky hands, Stiles reached up and flushed, standing on trembling legs.

He went to the sink, blindly turning on the water and quickly splashing it on his face. Cupping his hands, he watched the water pool and seep out of his hands, even as he clumsily brought it to his lips, taking a slow sip. He sloshed the water around then spit it out, his breath coming out in short puffs.

His eyes caught the reflection in the mirror, nearly losing his stomach again at the sight staring back at him.

Bloodshot eyes, puffy and wet, with dark circles under them stared back at him. The normal honey brown colour reflecting back as an endless abyss, sucking him in. His cheeks were sunken, a red hue dusting them from tears. The tip of his nose was dusted red too, giving some life to his otherwise sickly pale tone. His lips were a pale, almost blue, colour, chapped and bitten raw. His collar bones poked helplessly out of the shirt he was wearing, which once fit his frame before. 

_ "Do you like what you see, Stiles?" _

No. No he didn't. This isn't him. Fuck.

Finally he heard footsteps pounding against the floorboards, stopping outside of the bathroom door. Then a knock echoed throughout the bathroom, sounding like a bomb dropping to Stiles. He squeezed his eyes shut, flinching at the noise.

"Stiles?"

Derek? Why was he here? 

"Stiles open the door." Derek knocked again, the door knob jiggling. He didn't lock the door.

It slowly creeped open, revealing a worried looking Derek, Scott nowhere to be seen. 

_ "Where's Scotty boy~?"  _ The voice purred in his head, twisting into the corners of the back of his mind. 

Stiles didn't answer, bracing himself on the sink, eyes downcasted even as Derek's shadow loomed over him.

"Stiles, are _ you sure I'm really here? That I'm not dead?  _ — you okay?" 

Stiles cringed at the overlapping voice, cutting into Derek's smooth calm one. It was rough, a deeper version of Dereks. Is this his mind playing tricks on him? Isn't it?

"I'm okay." He lied through clenched teeth, not meeting the others eyes as he turned around to face him.

Derek shook his head, a sigh booming throughout the room. "You're lying."

He knew? He heard his heartbeat? Why didn't Scott?

"I'm okay, Derek. It's just lack of sleep." That wasn't necessarily a lie. Yet when met Derek's eyes there was doubt in them, shadowing the worry he held.

It took Stiles' breath away. 

Derek's hands laid on Stiles' hips, fingers tapping a gentle rhythm against them. The warmth of his hands seeped through Stiles' pants, soothing on his freezing skin. He barely registered how  _ odd  _ this was.

"If you say so." Derek said, pulling Stiles closer, guiding his head to rest on his chest.

Warmth flooded his body, revealing shivering he hadn't even been aware of. Just how could was he? Why is he freezing so bad?

_ "Questions. So many questions Stiles. Yet only you have the answers." _

Stiles ignored the voice, instead toning in on Derek's heartbeat, thumping loudly. 

Wait. Why is Derek here? And why — Derek isn't a touchy person. This is weird. This isn't normal, what is going on?

He bit back his questions, instead basking in the werewolfs warmth silently.

He knew this isn't going to last but he couldn't help at hope, just for a moment, that he could stay in Derek's arms forever.

_ Even if it is just a dream. _

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp  
> It got kinda soft at the end but like  
> It wont stay that way ;>  
> Feedback is highly appreciated!!


	6. Dreaded signs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles just didn't care anymore. He tried to ignore the nagging voice in his head and let himself be comfortable. He just wanted sleep.
> 
> There's always a price to pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings;  
> Swearing  
> Aftermath of a panic attack (yo they arent fun)

It felt like ages before Derek pulled Stiles away from the hug, gently cupping the younger man's face.

Stiles stayed still, letting Derek turn his head to examine any injuries, anything at all. The voice in the back of his head was a hushed whisper now, barely falling on deaf ears as Derek caressed under his eyes, catching a stray tear on his thumb.

"Are you okay, Stiles?"

Stiles hummed, opening his eyes which he wasn't even aware had fluttered shut. He didn't trust his words, nor could he even speak if he wanted. His throat burned, scratchy and gross as he swallowed thickly. 

_ "He's acting weird~ yet you don't care?" _

He didn't have enough energy to fight with the voice that grew louder, leaning his head against Derek who didn't flinch back. He just let him, completely unlike the Derek he knew. Would Derek actually ever do this? He couldn't be sure. Vaguely he knew something was wrong. Is it  _ its  _ words or his own? His thoughts and feelings? He isn't sure anymore. 

He doesn't know where his thoughts end and the others start, his own feelings mixing in with the signs of danger and uncomfortableness, tearing away at his very being, chip by chip. It's wearing him thin.  _ It _ knows it too. He's growing tired and it hasn't even been that long. He just wants sleep. Maybe if he asked nicely, Scott and them could tie him up while he slept and watch over him so he doesnt hurt anything. But that means explaining  _ why. _

How could Stiles begin to explain why when he doesn't know what's going on? 

Huffing a little, Stiles finally pulled away from Derek completely, eyes watering again from the pure concern in the wolf's eyes. Quickly averting his eyes, he cleared his throat, speaking slowly despite the growing pain in flaring throughout his neck. "I need to talk to Scott."

Derek raised an eyebrow, but stepped aside nonetheless to let the younger man pass by.

Stiles slipped past him, ignoring the way his legs shook like a leaf underneath him, stumbling to the living room where Scott sat.

Scott turned his head to him, standing up quickly. Without letting Stiles open his mouth, he asked, "Stiles buddy are you okay?"

Shaking his head, Stiles tugged Scott along to the kitchen, where he grabbed a cup and filled it with water. He gulped it down greedily, eyes fluttering shut as it soothed his sore throat, his mouth no longer feeling like sandpaper. He set the cup down, looking at Scott, his body sagging down onto the counter.

"Scott —" he hesitated, eyes flickering around. He didn't realize he was picking at his fingers until Scott grabbed them, squeezing them lightly. "I.. I need you to tie me up. And not leave my side when I sleep. I — I can't explain but I think something is wrong with me and I haven't had a good night's sleep in  _ weeks _ . I don't trust myself to not sleep-walk and end up in another spot—" He trailed off, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. He didn't want to end up in another spot with a dead body. One that  _ he  _ likely killed.

Scott raised an eyebrow, no worry to be seen in his eyes, yet he slowly nodded. "Of course buddy. Me and Derek will watch over you, okay? We'll make sure you don't go anywhere."

Stiles didn't know if he believed Scott.

Derek chose that moment to walk into the kitchen, slipping up next to Stiles, who had a shiver sent down his spine at the warmth radiating off the wolf.

"You want us to tie you up so you can sleep?" He asked, startling Stiles. 

Right. Super-hearing. Then why  _ didn't Scott hear him too? _

Nodding, Stiles braced himself on the counter further, putting most of his weight on it. His legs trembled underneath him, threatening to buckle down. He's a mess. What the fuck happened to him.  _ Why  _ did it?

_ "You know why Stiles. You opened your heart to a dark place~ yet you haven't given in." _

Oh fuck off!

"Do you have rope?" Scott asked, stepping away from Stiles, who flinched. Scott? Why?

"Yes."

Derek bent down and slipped his arms under Stiles's legs, effortlessly picking him up bridal style. 

A gasp fell past his lips, hands reaching out to clutch onto Derek's shirt, curling the fabric in his grip. "Derek?!" He squeaked, looking at the other man, who merely raised an eyebrow at him. As if that's an answer!

"I'll go grab it. It's in the basement, right?" It was phrased like a question but wasn't one at all as Scott left to go grab the rope.

Derek on the other hand carried a flustered Stiles up to his room, setting him down on the bed. 

_ "Stiles~, you do know how weird he's acting right~. This isn't like him. You know this~ so why? Why do you accept it so easily~?" _

Don't ask questions you already know. It's in his head. It knows he likes the other man in a less than platonic way.  _ It  _ knows.

_ "Ah, I know. It's just so fun to mess with you!"  _

Dickhead.

Stiles curled into the bed, glancing up at Derek who made himself comfortable at the edge, eyes peering into Stiles own. Too intimate.  _ Way  _ too intimate. Derek what the fuck.

Any thoughts died on his lips as Scott opened the door with rope in his hands, making his way to Stiles. A feeling of dread climbed through his body, shaking him down to the core — yet like an idiot he ignored it, letting Scott tie his hands a feet so he was unable to move, per his request.

His limbs felt heavy, his eyes dropping shut as Derek pulled the blanket up to cover his shivering body.

He's so tired.

Yet he's an idiot too.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Void boy is ba ck  
> And ready to confuse more people including myself!  
> Kidding  
> But like  
> Stiles what's up buddy   
> Whats wrong do you need a hug?  
> (Spoiler alert i think he does)
> 
> Anyways!!! Feedback is highly appreciated!!   
> (Pls i begeth)


	7. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anger and betrayal. He couldn't trust anyone, could he? No matter if it was all a dream. Trust is flimsy in a bleak world. One where anyone could die at any moment. 
> 
> Why could he begin to trust?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings!
> 
> Some of things said could be triggering!   
> Please be advised when reading  
> Swearing

Panic gripped Stiles as his eyes shot open, squirming around in the ropes he was trapped in. No you idiot,  _ you  _ let them tie you up.

_ You  _ let them hurt you.  _ You  _ let them leave you alone as you slept.  _ You  _ trusted them and they  _ betrayed it _ .

He couldn't see past the dark room, shapes mixing into a puddle of goo, twisting to make shapes that weren't there before  — is that a person? — startling the man. He was helpless — tied down and unable to move as the figure stalked forward, footsteps pounding against the hard floor, booming around the room.

A light hiss of a laugh filled the otherwise silent room as the footsteps slowed to a stop next to the bed, where Stiles laid unable to even breathe. His heart roared in his ears, pulsing through his veins, even as a smile broke out onto his face.

He realized fairly quickly the smile was bitter, accepting even. His friends — his  _ crush  _ left him alone to be grasped in this monster's claws. They even tied him up for it! Even if it was his idea to be tied. They left him alone.  _ They _ did. Scott even  _ said they wouldn't leave him alone. _ But they did. They left him here to die. 

By the chuckle that the creature looming over the bed let out, he assumes his panic, no — his  _ anger _ was funny. Was it?

"What's so funny, huh?" Stiles snarled, pulling against the tight ropes, letting them rub into his skin painfully. They were going to be raw later, but the pain grounded him to reality. If this even  _ is  _ reality.

"Oh Stiles~," the thing purred, another weak hiss of a laugh passing its bandaged face, "you're angry. You have every right to be. They left you. You said it yourself, you didn't believe Scott. You  _ knew they were going to leave you.  _ And they did. They left you all alone to deal with this pain by yourself."

He knew that for fucks sake. He shouldn't have put his trust into them. They never did care. They only needed him for information. What else? He was just a dumb human who knew how to find things. He was a burden. 

"So fucking what, you bitch. I made a single mistake, and now you're here to kill me? You've been in my head for months. Used my body for months. Do you think you scare me?" 

All he felt was boiling hot rage. He was so  _ angry. _ It's been tormenting him for months. His friends didn't notice a single thing wrong. Hes dealt with this and no one cared—

"Stop being selfish~" it said, its face morphing into a mirror image of Stiles, its voice mimicking his as it spoke again, "You didn't reach out. You didn't ask them for help, did you~? No, no you didn't. And yet you curse them for the things they've done. They don't care about you, and you still waste your selfish anger on them? Pathetic. I thought you were different Stiles. You've done more with your own hands than any of my other hosts~"

Other hosts?

It cupped Stiles' face roughly, digging its fingernails into his cheeks, a grin stretching across its lips, "I can help you, Stiles. I can take all the pain and anger away. You won't feel anything. I can make it so you're better."

"Oh fuck off." He spat, wiggling his head to get out of the grasp of the thing with his face. "Im pissed, I'm really pissed but I'm not an idiot. You can take your sweet talk elsewhere you —"

It covered his mouth, painfully digging into his jaw as it tsked. "Such a bad mouth. You know your way with words don't you? Ah, that doesn't matter. It won't be long until you figure it out."

Stiles couldn't speak past the freezing hand over his mouth, instead a muffled noise barely making it past. Figure out what? What is he supposed to figure out? 

Suddenly something cold and wet splashed over his face, the thing disappearing as he blinked his eyes opened.

His throat was sore, and he immediately noticed his hands were free and Derek, who had a bucket of water, had healing scratches across his skin and bite marks quickly fading on his hand.

Derek set the bucket down, pulling up the non-soaked part of the blanket, wiping down Stiles face.

Stiles let him, silently assisting the situation. He was asleep. He must have done something considering— oh, he tastes copper on his teeth. How did he manage to harm Derek like that? Isn't he a werewolf? Superhuman abilities and all that? All he remembers is anger and betrayal. Oh, and the fact the creature can manifest physically in his dreams.  _ Fun _ .

"Derek—," he croaked, wincing at how he sounded, "what happened?"

"You went berserk. Screaming about how "they're all dead" and attacked us. Scott went to go get the sheriff. You also—" he stopped, the words dying on his lips. He was hesitating.

"I also what? What did I do, Derek?" Stiles pressed, sitting up, ignoring the water dripping down his face or how painful it was to speak.

"It wasn't you," Derek started slowly, "but something spoke, it was like a switch was flipped. The room's temperature dropped, and you broke out of the rope with impossible strength. You started laughing after, almost.. Deadly. Then you collapsed and I got water—"

"I woke up? And did that."

"Yes. Do you know what's going on? You've been acting differently recently. If you know anything, Stiles, you need to tell us so we can help you."

_ "Derek really is acting weird, isn't he~?"  _

Through clenched teeth, Stiles did what he did best. Lie.

"No, I don't know anything."

He should have known lying was always a mistake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Stiles probably swears a lot but since its a tv show they had to censor him  
> I mean to be fair he called ppl dumbass and bitch   
> So fuck isn't too far off
> 
> BUT  
> I wonder what will happen to Stiles now?  
> Derek knows something is up  
> Our boy is keeping silent though 
> 
> OH BTW  
> I HAVE??? AN IDEA?? AND IM WONDERING IF PPL WOULD BE INTERESTED IN IT  
> And interactive void!Stiles thing  
> Where you get to choose Stiles actions   
> (Itll get dark though just warning you)  
> Itd be a separate story but i wanna experiment with evil characters more & void!Stiles is like  
> One of the best villains ive seen (props to dylan o'brien for like- 10/10 acting like fuck man i loved that season)
> 
> BUT aNYWAYS  
> SHDHSH  
> feedback is highly appreciated as usual!!   
> (Thank you for those who comment & kudo!!) 💙

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! It me  
> Void boy   
> Kidding   
> BUT  
> Stiles is a good guy! Void or the nogitsune  
> Is bad!! Obviously..   
> Abshsjsj  
> Anyways   
> If i made any mistakes please let me know! (I don't have beta reader)
> 
> Feedback is highly appreciated!


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